


Expenses

by JantoJones



Series: Stand-alone  (The 1st 100) [26]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 07:23:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6414352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon and Illya are asked to explain their latest expenses claim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Napoleon and Illya had been summoned to Mr Waverly's office. This in itself was not an unusual event. However, they weren't normally confronted by Stefan Reid, from accounting. Waverly invited them to sit down.

"Mr Reid is a little concerned about your last assignment, gentlemen."

Napoleon eyed the file in front of the accountant. Reid opened it, a little too ominously to Solo's way of thinking.

"I shall start with Mr Kuryakin," Reid began. "I have to say I am a little shocked by this claim. When you first arrived here, you barely claimed for anything. I think this shows you have been corrupted by your partner."

Illya had the decency to look slightly ashamed, but didn't say anything; resolutely avoiding eye contact with Mr Waverly.

"Firstly, you want twenty-five dollars for food," Reid began. "I understand you have a reputation for eating copious amounts, but I doubt even you could eat that much on thirty-six hour assignment."

Glaring at Napoleon, Illya wordlessly prompted him to explain why he'd been landed with a twenty-five dollar bill. The silent battle lasted three seconds until Solo relented.

"That was my fault," he admitted. "I erm. . . got distracted and accidently knocked Illya into a snack cart. I didn't have any cash on me to recompense the vendor."

Waverly harrumphed with irritation, knowing exactly what his CEA would have been distracted by.

"I'm sorry Mr Kuryakin, but I am not authorising this one," Reid told the unhappy Russian. "I suggest you ask Mr Solo to pay you back. Had he made the claim, it would be a different matter."

That'll be sometime just after Hell freezes over, thought Illya.

"Onto the next items," Mr Reid push on. "Why are you claiming for a suit, a shirt, a tie, a tie clip, underpants, socks, shoes and a watch, again?"

"Mine were taken from me," Illya replied, matter-of-factly. "I was captured and stripped, again."

"Mr Kuryakin, I understand the difficulties you agents face, but this is the third time this year."

"Next time I'm captured," Illya snarled, leaning towards Reid. "I'll make sure to ask them not to take my clothes as the cost is frowned upon by our accountant."

The Old Man coughed. It was a clear signal to Illya not to launch himself into a rant. The Russian backed down.

Reid cleared his throat nervously. He'd had many run-ins with U.N.C.L.E.'s top team, but this was the first time he'd been on the receiving end of the famous Ice Prince stare.

"I will allow this one," he conceded. "This next one, however, confuses me. Four dollars for entrance into the World's Fair? I thought the entrance fee was only two dollars."

"The man were tailing went into the fair, so we had to follow," Illya explained.

"That doesn't explain why you paid double to get in," Waverly interjected.

"I had to pay for Napoleon too."

Solo looked up at the ceiling, as though searching for divine intervention. He was brought back to the room by his boss.

"How do you manage on assignments when your partner is not with you, Mr Solo?" The Old Man asked his senior agent.

Napoleon shrugged. Reid continued with his assessment.

"I will authorise it this time Mr Kuryakin, but would suggest you stop taking money on assignments and allowing Mr Solo to take some of the burden for once. Now, please explain to me what a Goofy costume is."

"A Disney cartoon character," Illya enlightened him. "I had to 'borrow' it when my clothes were taken, but it got damaged. I promised it would be paid for."

The accountant had to accept the claim for the costume as it was obvious Mr Kuryakin couldn't have walked through the fair naked. He turned the page in his file before looking directly into Napoleon's eyes.

"How did you damage your suit?"

"Climbing up a drainpipe onto a roof."

"I am somewhat concerned that this is your eleventh claim to replace a suit this year," he told him. "That would be bad enough even if they weren't hand tailored Italian suits. Mr Solo, I must insist that you either wear less expensive clothes, or take some of the financial loss upon yourself."

Napoleon was aghast. How could he possibly be expected to wear cheap suits? He had a reputation to uphold. Glancing over at his partner, he could see Illya was barely suppressing a smile.

"I have a suggestion Mr Reid," Waverly said, as he lit his pipe. "You could possibly limit Mr Solo to six suit claims per year. I do understand that, in your case Mr Solo, the clothes maketh the man. However, you are costing us a small fortune."

"I understand Sir," Napoleon replied, somewhat sulkily. From the corner of his eye, he could see Illya shaking with the effort not to laugh.

"Is that everything Mr Reid?"

"Yes, Mr Waverly."

"Thank you," Waverly said to him, before dismissing him. Once the man had gone, he turned back to his agents.

"Gentlemen, I understand that you incur damage and loss of your property in this job, and I acknowledge you sometimes have to reimburse people for damage you may cause, but please be more careful with your claims. Mr Reid is a very tedious man, and I really could do without him taking up my time. All he sees are numbers and decimal points. He fails to realise that the man you went after in the World's Fair, would have cause the deaths of countless innocents. I think if he looked at the big picture, he would see that replacing a few suits is well worth it. Do not take that as leave to be less careful with your property or that of others. Now, please don't let me keep you."

Heading back to the office, Illya asked Napoleon when he was going to pay him back.

"Can you wait until next week, Tovarisch," Solo answered. "I'm taking Wonderful Wendy for dinner tonight."

Kuryakin rolled his eyes, but said nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Stefan Reid was not a nervous man by nature. He faced down agents, and their ‘creative’ expenses claims on a daily basis. However, there was a world of difference between an agent trying to get a reimbursement on a cup of coffee, and one who doesn’t want you in his way. In this case, it was two agents.

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were not happy with what Reid had suggested. Unfortunately, Mr Waverly seemed to think it a fine idea.

“Are you sure about this, Sir?” Napoleon asked his superior, while keeping his eyes on Reid.

“I’m not suggesting I join you on a full assignment,” the accountant assured him. “Just a courier run.”

“They are often just as dangerous,” Illya stated, keeping his voice neutral. The only indication he was less than happy, was the way he was tapping his pen on the table. Reid found it difficult to tear his eyes from the silver object, fully expecting Kuryakin to throw it at him at any moment.

“Gentlemen,” Waverly interjected, with a tone which quieted the argument before it could begin. “I understand your misgivings. Nonetheless, I believe that it will be beneficial for all concerned to for Mr Reid to see for himself why agents have such high expenses. We obviously can’t send him on an assignment with you, so he agreed to this. There is a budget review upcoming, and I understand that expenses could be in line for a cut.”

The emphasis he placed on the last sentence was clearly understood by the two agents. They both realised it was their best chance of having accounting cut them a little slack.

“Very well, Sir,” Napoleon relented, before turning his attention back to Reid. “We have a package to hand-off tomorrow; you can join us for that.”

“A word of warning, Mr Reid,” Kuryakin said, with a voice so cold, the accountant almost shivered. “You must listen to us at all times. If we tell you do something, it is imperative you do it immediately, without question. It could be a matter of life or death.”

 

**********************************************************************************

 

_48 hours later._

 

“Take a seat Mr Solo, Mr Kuryakin,” said Mr Waverly, by way of a greeting.

Napoleon sat down immediately, but Illya had to do some careful manoeuvring because of his crutches and the whole leg cast he was sporting.

“Mr Reid is unable to join this meeting, as medical haven’t yet cleared him,” the Old Man pointedly looked at the Russian. “Some people know how to follow their doctor’s orders.”

Illya said nothing, he knew he was fine. Well, apart from a fractured femur.

“I have spoken to him about the incident,” Waverly continued, “And he assures me that neither of you could have prevented him from being shot. In fact his story agrees with your reports in saying that, if you Mr Kuryakin hadn’t pushed him out of the way, it may have been his chest and not his arm which was hit. He regrets that he didn’t duck when you told him too, and that it led to you taking a tumble down that embankment.”

The agents said nothing. Illya was still seething over being injured because the idiot accountant didn’t listen to him. Napoleon kept quiet because he knew full well the bullet wouldn’t have hit Reid. He was wishing he’d told Illya about the plan he’d cooked up.

“The whole thing did achieve the desired result,” Mr Waverly continued. “Mr Reid now accepts that agents cannot be expected to know when danger will confront them. He accepts that material costs are the last thing you should be concerning yourselves with in the heat of the moment. In conclusion, the expenses budget is staying as it is. Mr Solo, that is not a licence for you to claim a new suit every week.”

“Yes Sir.” Solo replied, contritely.

“Just one more thing, Mr Solo. It seems a little strange to me that the gunman who fired on Mr Reid only took one shot before running off. You wouldn’t happen to know why that would be.”

“No idea, Sir,” Napoleon lied. “I’d better be getting Mr Kuryakin home. He’s been ordered to take medical leave.

Waverly harrumphed, and waved them away with his pipe.

As they made their way back down the corridor, Illya asked Napoleon if he really did know anything about the gunman. Solo tried to bluff his way around an answer, but his guilty expression was enough to give him away.

“I set it up,” he confessed. “You weren’t supposed to see him. He would have sent the shot right past, but you did see him and took action. It was meant to scare Reid, and show him how dangerous things can be for us. I’m sorry, Tovarisch.”

“Sorry?” Illya growled. “I’m out of action for weeks, and you’re sorry?”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Don’t you worry, my friend,” Kuryakin replied, with a smile like a mad wolf. “I shall make certain you do.”


End file.
